


Welcome to Underneath

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-31
Updated: 2006-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-11 01:17:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11138337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: A 'second-time' story.  Awkward silence is winning, until Ray decides he has an advantage.





	Welcome to Underneath

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Welcome to Underneath

## Welcome to Underneath

  
by joandarck  


Author's Notes: or, The Ne Plus Awkward

* * *

  
  
Of all the awkward conversations that had ever been had in the Canadian Consulate, and that was probably most of them, this one was the awkwardest, the one past which it could not get more awkward.  
  
This one had to top the ones they probably had about moose-related fatalities, or the time the Board of Trade reps caught Turnbull doing pirouettes in his frilly apron. In fact, Ray would happily have had a long talk about either of those right now. He'd have asked for a slideshow of the moose thing. He'd have clapped for Turnbull and offered to give him a dip.  
  
Five minutes in, even Diefenbaker had let out a whine and snuck off, to go hole up in some back room that wasn't full of the two of them. Probably under the furniture. Ray didn't blame him. Okay, he did, but only because he was jealous.  
  
Maybe it wasn't even a conversation, in that they'd said almost nothing since he came over, but that just contributed to the wrongness of it. You know. It just wasn't working.  
  
"You like the chicken?" he said. Gritting his teeth.  
  
Fraser gave that a minute, staring grimly down the length of his chopsticks into the cardboard container, all _do I like the chicken._ "It's adequate. It's... fine."  
  
Maybe he should just shoot himself in the head. Save everyone a lot of time and trouble. Speaking of heads, he could see Fraser's hat on the floor by the closet. Run that by yourselves again, people: on the floor. Fraser'd come home in a hurry last night.  
  
Damn right, he had.  
  
Fraser saw him looking at the hat, jerked, then pretended he didn't see it. So yeah, things _could_ get more awkward.  
  
It was a long, slow slide into panic and Ray was starting to think he'd never reach bottom, just spontaneously cease to exist right here in Fraser's office because life couldn't suck this bad for anyone, even him. And then it hit him. Watching the little frown on Fraser's face, the incredible stiffness with which he sat and poked at the peace-offering dinner, it hit him, like a dose of crack.  
  
He had the upper hand.  
  
Not Fraser. Him. You know why?  
  
He'd thought Fraser did, because - wait, time to catch Fraser up on this thought process. "Hey! Me with the upper hand here, not you. I just got that. See, I thought it was you, because, yeah granted, I started it, and because I'm more-" he twirled his finger impatiently to indicate 'obsessed with you than you are with me' since it wasn't going to come out of his mouth. "But actually I'm the one, I'm the captain of this ship, the head honcho. Because _you_ are helpless, _you_ are stuck, because _you_ are too embarrassed to talk about what happened."  
  
Yeah, oh, yeah. Benton wasn't the boss of him. For once he wasn't Mountie-whipped; he was on top.  
  
"But I can say it. We had sex. We had sex, Fraser." He got up on his knee on the folding chair, gloating in his excitement. "Last night. We did it. We got down. We went there. We did the hokey-pokey. You put your right foot in, put your right foot out, and that _was_ what it's all about. Remember? We did it, Fraser. You and me."  
  
Fraser blanked out on him. Then he let go of the chopsticks and put the food down on the desk, looked away, back at him. Like it was impossible the universe would force him to talk about this. Sorry, universe, meet the new law in town. He looked pissed.  
  
"Well, all right then, Ray, have it your way. Yes. We..." he gestured.  
  
"Had sex."  
  
"Briefly and temporarily..."  
  
"Had sex."  
  
"Experienced a moment of, an episode..."  
  
"Of SEX."  
  
Fraser rolled his eyes. "Ray."  
  
"You just can't even say it, can you? You can't believe you did it, that you'd ever-" Ray's triumph started draining rapidly even as he heard himself talking. "Want to do something like that with me. That you'd let me do stuff like that. To you. Mr. Perfect Mountie, don't use if the safety seal's broken."  
  
That gave Fraser a headache. A face-rubbing, not looking at Ray kind of headache. "Are you enjoying yourself?"  
  
Was he? Well he had to be, didn't he? "I sure am. I mean, I win. I got what everybody wants. Everybody in Chicago wants a piece of your ass and I got it. Well, nobody got nobody's ass literally, but that's a whole 'nother conversation."  
  
Fraser didn't dignify that line of talk with anything but a look of disgust. "You're being childish," he said, possibly after swallowing bile.  
  
"You're the child here, Fraser. If you can't talk about something, you're not old enough to do it," he said primly. He'd heard that someplace.  
  
"Is that so."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"And you're being mature."  
  
"Sure."  
  
"Then you'll be prepared to discuss the emotional ramifications."  
  
Only a narrow save kept Ray's fried rice from going all over the floor.  
  
Fraser made a nasty, patronizing noise that was almost a laugh, sort of an "Uh-huh-huh- _ho._ " Some tiny survival instinct tried to warn him to get ready for a one-two knockout. "I thought not. And given that you're not prepared to have an adult relationship, as I am not surprised to find, I have no intention of jeopardizing anything at all, from Ray Vecchio's cover to something as small as my own peace of mind, simply to satisfy your impulses."  
  
Ray stopped trying to settle the carton safely on the floor and snarled. "Oh, that's rich. Who was getting satisfied last night? Was that me? Was that my head bangin' on the wall?"  
  
That was it: he'd gone too far. And Fraser still didn't blow. Something very, very bad happened just behind his face, though. "I think you've proven my point," he said. He straightened up off the desk, went to the door and opened it.  
  
He wasn't serious. Fraser wasn't just throwing him out. "What, what, what is that?"  
  
Fraser looked him right in the eye. "This is a door, Ray. It's a wooden rectangle, pivoting on two-" he indicated them- "hinges. And I'd like you to be on the other side of it."  
  
Why had he ever thought he wanted Fraser to hit him?  
  
This was wrong. This was terrible. He'd just wanted - he'd only wanted - hell, he had a right, didn't he... What was happening? He'd won and he had nothing. He heard Fraser's boots squeaking on the floor behind him as they walked down the hall.  
  
Fraser was holding the outside wooden rectangle open for him and he had actually put a foot through it into the dark Chicago night when suddenly. Suddenly. The weakly flailing flippers of Ray's brain reached out and snagged that small, icy cold pinball as it went shooting past and flipped it back up, strong and hard.  
  
Where it hit a ramp and rolled round a corner and settled down nicely into the super-bonus jackpot spot. Bells... flashing lights... his chance to get his name in Fraser's list of high scores. He ducked and shouldered back inside before anyone could stop him.  
  
"What did you say?" he demanded while he was still wheezing and getting steady on his feet. "Just back that bad boy up and run it again. Did you say 'adult relationship'?"  
  
In Fraser's new version of history, he hadn't said anything. He was furious.  
  
"You mean a relationship. As in, you want to be my... uh." _Uh._ There weren't a lot of words to finish that sentence with, and they all sounded ludicrous. _If you can't say it, you're not old enough to do it,_ somebody jeered in the back of his head. But he couldn't. Which meant... yeah, Fraser was back on top again.  
  
And that didn't surprise him, because Fraser had been the boss of him for the entire time they'd been working together, except for one twenty-four hour period that he remembered really well because it had just ended.  
  
Fraser closed the door, you couldn't really call it a slam, and folded his arms. "No, I don't, Ray. If you'd listen, what I said was that I don't. Something like this would be difficult enough even if we were... working together. On the same side. Not attacking, belittling, this constant conflict you seem to need."  
  
He did. He _did_ want to be his whatever. Ray felt a grin threatening to break out, the kind that could really get him in trouble right about now. "I'm sorry, Fraser, I just didn't get it. I didn't get what could happen with us. I was being a jerk. A huge jerk, like, showroom-quality mint condition jerk. And I will apologize on bended knee. Okay? Look, here I am, down on my knees for you. Apologizing."  
  
Fraser looked.  
  
"Are you gonna let me apologize, Fraser?"  
  
Fraser turned around. Actually turned his back, and leaned on his hand against the wall. He remembered, all right.  
  
"Why are you doing this to me?" he said.  
  
Months of craziness, of pretending it wasn't happening, of... God, what to tell him? First chance, last chance.  
  
Fraser always did like the truth.  
  
"'Cause you said relationship," Ray said quietly. "And that's what I want. 'Cause you're one scary piece of handsome and working with you makes my eyes hurt and you make me feel like a real guy, like a hero, and you're so completely weird and you taste like... Because I have to, Fraser. That's how it is."  
  
Was that enough? Was he even listening? Ray's soul ticked away in seconds.  
  
Finally Fraser turned around and looked at him again. Just... thinking. He stepped forward and gave Ray a hand up, which was both good and bad. They stood nose to nose for a minute.  
  
"What do I taste like?" Fraser asked, like he really wanted to know.  
  
Ray dropped his eyes shyly. "Like... sweat. But it's good."  
  
Yeah, real smooth. Sincerity was his only chance here, but luckily, he meant every word he could possibly say.  
  
"Is there any chance you'll stop trying to hit me when my guard's down?"  
  
That low voice was doing him in worse than ever. "Huh? Ah, Fraser, I... I never wanted to hit you at all. I'm sorry."  
  
"Ray. You apologized!"  
  
"Yeah, I..."  
  
"Twice." Fraser swayed towards him for a second, as the temperature shot up from Celsius to Fahrenheit. Ray managed to meet his eyes and realized that time had reversed and he'd been forgiven and miracles do happen and he was about to be hit by a truck. Then Fraser took a step back, intent.  
  
"Do we have to do this in the hall?" he said, sort of plaintively.  
  
Ray grinned, because he could let it out now. This whole thing was so much better than he'd thought it could be when he woke up this year.  
  
"Nah, we don't have to. We don't even have to do it in Canada." Maybe Fraser would loosen up away from the office, lose a few inhibitions. "Want to go back to my place?"  
  
He felt the hot coming off him and went with it, aiming it out of his eyes and his shoulder and his smirk.  
  
"No, I don't think so." Fraser turned away, slanting him a look that was still hard, tight, and somehow incredibly sultry. "It's nearly a ten-minute drive." He walked back into his office and the door stayed open. All the way open: he must be holding it.  
  
Ray's jaw hung down a little. Jesus, would you look at that? He'd done everything but snap and say "Heel!" You'd think life with Dief would have taught him that didn't work.  
  
Ray shook his head violently, rolled his shoulders, and had some quick flickering thoughts about what this was going to mean for his life. Work, parents, friends, self-respect, that kind of thing. Then he ran for it.  
  
You know, forward, of course. 

  

  
 

* * *

End Welcome to Underneath by joandarck 

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